


A Chance to Bathe

by TAFKAB



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Edoras, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 01:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10451850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAB/pseuds/TAFKAB
Summary: The inevitable "Legolas and Gimli share a room and a bath-- and more-- in Edoras" fic.  (An old story, published many years ago under the pseudonym Bill the Pony)





	

He had heard Men say that a seasoned campaigner never missed a chance for sleep and food, and it seemed so for men, but for an Elf sleep was not often needed, and so he would substitute a bath, if time and circumstance allowed-- in a clear mountain stream, a pool of still rainwater, or better yet, a tub of heated water, one such as the hobbits often sang of wistfully as they walked. 

The habitations of men were often good places to obtain such things; bathing might be infrequent, the washing of clothes equally so, but in the dwellings of men fire might be found, and buckets, if not washtubs. 

Theoden's lodging was supplied with all three, a happy day for Legolas. 

He ordered a tub carried to Gimli's rooms, and water in buckets, and entered as the men and women bustled about, bringing harsh soap and linen cloths and stoking the fire. Gimli was abed, resting yet from their long run, and he glowered when he woke, but did not gainsay the frenzy of activity. Instead, he beetled his lowered brows at Legolas in a fierce scowl, and Legolas laughed, seeing he expected to be bathed against his will. 

When the last of the men and maids had departed, Gimli at last released the growl from his chest, throwing back the coverlet with wrath, but Legolas held up his slender hand and halted him. "My good dwarf, you will wait in silence until my words are done. We have run together, and ridden together, and in the dark watches of the night, your eyes have followed me, and you have taunted me without mercy, taking pleasure in your flesh when I might not join you for duty's sake." 

"I wished no compa--" 

"Gimli." Legolas silenced him. "If you will watch me, then you will watch this." He lifted his hands to the clasp of his cloak, watching Gimli's eyes widen in alarm. "And I will be avenged, for watching you has teased me sorely." 

Gimli swallowed, the motion visible in the shift of his braided beard, and sat quite still on the bed. 

The fire leaped high, warming the buckets on the hob, its ruddy glow gilding Legolas's pale skin as he unclad himself without hurry. It was hot in the room, as the gleam of sweat on Gimli's forehead proved. The air felt smooth and welcoming on Legolas's arms, his chest, his thighs. He cast away his clothing, caring not where it fell, until he stood bare. 

"Among my people, it is the custom to wash ourselves before entering the bath, so that the water we lie in may be clean." Legolas reached leisurely for a cloth, and dipped it in one bucket. Water dripped to the floor, and trickled down his chest, across his belly, one droplet wandering down his thigh. Gimli's hands clenched in the blanket, and Legolas sighed. "It is warm," he spoke softly, passing the cloth along his arm and shoulder, letting his body flow before Gimli's eyes. He dipped the cloth and wrung it, then passed it over his body again. He lingered at his nipples, rubbing them with the rough linen, letting his chin tip back. Gimli made a harsh sound in his throat. 

"Ahhh," Legolas breathed, and brought the cloth to his belly. The air cooled his flesh, and his nipples stiffened; he rubbed softly at his stomach to give Gimli time to look his fill. His shaft rose, pleased with the Dwarf's attention, anticipating Legolas's own touch. 

Rinsing the cloth in warm water, and he caught his eager flesh in his hand, circling lightly along its length, and laved it, watching Gimli's eyes fasten there. Gimli's knuckles were white in the blankets, but yet he did not move. Very well, there was yet more Legolas could do. 

Abandoning that part of the game for the moment, he turned his back and wet the cloth anew, then let the warm water run down along his spine to his hips. "I could use your aid, my friend." He made the words husky. "But if you will not, then I must do as well as I may." He caught the cloth in both hands and dragged it along his back, arching and wriggling to reach every bit of skin. He spared none, bending to rub the cloth along his thighs, smiling to hear Gimli's strangled murmur. 

This was vanity, without doubt, and perhaps it was done in vain as well, but Legolas could not deny the pleasant, heavy weight between his thighs and the pleasure of Gimli's hot gaze caressing him, and he hoped to break the stalemate that plagued them. 

"I have needed this," he confessed, tossing the cloth into the bucket as he finished, but not making his meaning plain-- the bath or the pleasure. Let the Dwarf decide. He turned to Gimli again, and ran one slim hand along his belly up to his nipple, while the other clasped his shaft. "All the long nights." His hand slid along his clean, moist shaft. "Ai, Gimli." He sighed, lashes sinking, and made his venture. "Had you asked me to your blankets I would have come eagerly. I would do so now." 

"I will not!" Anger in Gimli's voice, and a ghost of pain, but Legolas was wounded also, and he did not heed it. 

"Watch me from afar, then." His voice cooled, and some of the sweetness stole from the warm, humid air. He slid his hand again, faster, milking a droplet of pearl from the tip of his shaft. He twisted his nipple, welcoming the bite of pain. "I have desired you since Lothlorien, and you have but mocked and tormented me. You will know what I have suffered." 

He fixed Gimli's eyes with his own, caressing himself with the skill of his long years, learning how best to make Gimli's eyes leap with flame, mirroring the fire, but his flesh was stubborn, discouraged by Gimli's adamant refusal. It resisted a swift end, but that gave his temper time to cool, and hope rose from its ashes. "Bare yourself, then, and join me as we are, if you will not let me come to you." He paused, hand moving, watching Gimli's face work with indecision and something like pain. 

Gimli's hands hesitated, then moved to his jerkin and pulled at the knotted laces; Legolas felt the cloud of ugliness that had threatened to gather fading like mist in the bright sunshine, and he breathed deeply, slowing his hand. "Ahhh, Gimli." He watched with reverence as he Dwarf's hard-muscled, thick-furred chest was revealed-- just as he had imagined it. "Truly, you are beautiful." Gimli's body was all corded muscle and dark red hair, wired with tendons-- dark nipples half-hiding like shy maidens behind the shelter of his beard. Legolas felt his body tighten, warning him. 

"I will not last long, with such a sight to kindle me," he promised, and watched Gimli's color rise-- covering his whole skin to his waist. "Do not delay, Gimli." Husky need filled his voice, and longing. He sighed as the thick, sturdy shaft was revealed; it stood proud and fierce, short but stout like Gimli himself. Legolas's mouth watered to taste the shine at the head; he held himself at bay, feeling like a hound straining to leap at a cornered stag. 

Gimli let the trousers fall at the edge of the bed; his beard half-hid his expression, but Legolas could see the need in his eyes, and the fear. 

"Do not fear." His voice faded and failed him as Gimli's sturdy hand wrapped around his proud shaft. "I would not take even a touch, were it not offered freely, though my heart shakes with want--" he silenced himself, feeling a fool, and lowered his eyes to his own flesh, half-forgotten, and yet eager in his hand. 

"I fear no scrawny elf." Half-sulky, half-breathless, Gimli answered him. His hand moved quickly at the base of his belly. 

"Do you fear yourself, then, that you will not let me love you?" Legolas bit his lip, feeling the chorus of his body rise towards crescendo. 

Gimli answered him only with a cry-- lust and despair mingled, the only time Legolas had ever heard him utter a sound in his crisis, and Legolas stuttered on his feet, nearly flying to his side, only stopping himself with an effort. Gimli fell back, his chest spattered; he avoided Legolas's eyes. 

Victory was empty, and climax dull as it struck Legolas in his turn, wetting his hands and belly; without Gimli in his arms, this was pointless and cruel. "Let me come to you," he begged, half below his breath. "I would hold you, Gimli, and ease your heart. Do not deny what we both feel." 

But Gimli did not speak; instead he lay staring at the ceiling until Legolas despaired, but even as Legolas turned away to wash himself and leave Gimli rose, and he stepped towards Legolas, his eyes full of sorrow, but his expression resolute. "I fear nothing, though you have defeated me," he breathed. "You may do with me as you will." He stiffened, his face stern, but his eyes haunted, a shadow of despair. "And you may leave me when you wish." 

The flagstone floor was rough and cold under Legolas's knees, but Gimli was warm inside his arms, and their seed mingled between their bodies. Legolas held the Dwarf's eyes, but the doubt remained, and at last, he thought he understood. "I will love you, then," Legolas laughed, but kindly, and kissed him. "And I will not leave. I will show you that an Elf's heart is true." 

He touched his lips to Gimli's forehead, and to his cheeks, and to his mouth. "But first, we will bathe."


End file.
